


The Art of Survival

by imanerdybutch



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/F, I've never been to NYC, Lesbian Character, Post-Apocalypse, Virus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imanerdybutch/pseuds/imanerdybutch
Summary: In a world devastated by a deadly virus, Agent Nicole Haught must learn to live in this new normal. Her journey will lead her to healing from loss and heartache. Will she succeed and can she find happiness again?Waverly Gibson and Wynonna Earp are dealing with loss and grief too. Stranded in a strange city, they will need to rely on each other if they ever want to get home.Will they all find what they are searching for? Join them on their adventure as they navigate this new world.
Relationships: Jeremy Chetri & Waverly Earp, Rosita Bustillos/Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp & Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught, Xavier Dolls & Nicole Haught
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on a video game called The Division and the real life events that are unfolding this year around the world. Given the subject, it's not a fluff piece but I'll try very hard to keep it as upbeat as possible. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, your feedback is much appreciated.

Nicole Haught walks the desolate streets of the once buzzing metropolis of New York City. Tonight, as a special agent for the Homeland Threat Division, Nicole’s services are needed at a safe house across town. Alone and on edge, she passes through the barren landscape of a city in ruin. The streets that once carried cars and humans alike are all but abandoned now. Refuse and debris are piled everywhere. Living conditions are less than favorable, and it’s a constant reminder of the devastation and suffering unleashed on the world six months ago.

The destruction came in the form of a virus, so deadly that millions upon millions all over the planet perished. There is no way to know how many survived, the numbers uncertain since mass media—mass anything—has all but ceased to exist as the aftermath plunged the world back to the dark ages.

Nicole is a survivor, and right now she’s focused on her mission. A few blocks into her journey, the two-way radio crackles, breaking the silence of the early evening air as a disembodied voice beckons over the static on the private channel.

_“Haught, you there?”_

Nicole grabs the device from her belt and pulls at the bandana covering her mouth, “Affirmative, what’s up Dolls?”

 _“What’s your ETA? We need you here.”_ His voice is harsh against the stillness. For a city that never sleeps, it’s now in a permanent catatonic state. Most days the only sounds breaking the silence are dogs barking or the occasional seagull calling its flock; it’s a stark contrast to the deafening noise pollution that once filled the air.

While the terroristic assault and the ensuing counterattacks left humanity in shambles, those who survive find shelter amidst the decaying city. Some live with the virus still coursing through their system and get marked as Infected. Nicole has seen firsthand what the virus can do. It’s gruesome, and she sometimes thinks humanity would have been better off not to survive this thing at all.

“I’m coming up on Alice’s Tea Cup, should be there in twenty.”

Her answer is solid, even if her nerves aren’t. This is the first time she’s made this trip alone. Dusk is creeping in, and that’s when the streets become more dangerous. Her uneasiness causes her pulse to quicken.

When Agent Xavier Dolls sent the last minute call for help to the base at the Post Office on East 70th, as the only medic available, Nicole knew she would be the one to go. She doesn’t mind. This is what she signed up for, helping people. And it beats being stuck at the command center with people she hardly knows. She and Dolls haven’t seen each other since she got back from field duty, and she could use a friendly face. 

An audible grunt breaks the static before Dolls anxiously asks, “ _Have you seen any Cleaners?”_

It’s only a thirty-minute walk, and she’s taking the quickest path, but Dolls is well aware of the dangers and his concern is valid.

The Cleaners are a small group of vigilantes that work to rid the streets of Infected. Since it’s still unclear how or if the virus can transmit to healthy beings, the Cleaners took matters into their own hands. They’re known for acting before asking the proper questions, and it’s possible to be mistaken for an Infected. If that happens, the subject of their scrutiny will surely fall to execution, but not before they are likely tortured. That’s a fate no one should have to endure. Nicole’s HTD issued bright yellow arm band should provide protection, but there’s no guarantee.

Nicole has walked this route with Dolls at least half a dozen times before, but her gut rumbles from hunger, and a modicum of fear at the thought of running into _any_ undesirables, not just the Cleaners. Scavengers or packs of feral dogs also roam the streets, and she’d rather not deal with any of them. She’d never admit her apprehension, priding herself on being strong and independent. Today is no different.

“Negative, it’s quiet out here,” she tells him, hiding her unease in her flat delivery.

_“Hopefully it stays that way. Make sure you stick to the route and don’t stop for anything.”_

“I will. Now quit distracting me so I can get there in one piece.” She half-chides, dropping the radio down to clip it back to her belt, and then raising it again. “Hey Dolls.”

_“Yeah?”_

“Thanks.”

His reply comes back with a barely audible chuckle, _“What for?”_

The sentiment settles in Nicole’s chest, and a sparse smile creases her lips. Before the attacks, in her former life—Nicole was thriving and fit, working as an EMT and living with her girlfriend, Shae, in Toronto. She can handle a weapon and knows self-defense. She even took several classes in wilderness survival. Dolls knows all of that, yet he still feels the need to check on her whenever he thinks she might be in over her head.

At the risk of showing emotion, she chokes back a sigh, “For checking on me even when you don’t need to.”

Nicole blames the moment of weakness on fatigue as the sincerity bleeds through her words. Neither are prone to expressing their feelings, but it’s a given that they always have each other’s backs. In this alternative world, only the hardened and healthy can survive. Now more than ever, it’s critical to have someone who cares, still they would never admit that to each other.

 _“Just get here, Haught.”_ His response is gruff, but her smile grows at his delivery.

“Roger that.”

The radio goes silent, and she clips it in place, making a cursory check of her sidearm before adjusting her backpacks. In one, she carries her belongings. In the other pack, she carries the medical supplies needed to do her job. She’s proud to be working as a medical professional, even if it is for another country’s government. These days one has to do whatever it takes to survive and the relationship suits her, for now.

Focusing back on the street, Nicole quickens her pace as the sun looms just past the tall buildings in the area known as Lennox Hill. Abandoned high-end automobiles still fill the streets. The cleaners have long since removed any bodies stricken by the virus. Now the cars sit empty, scavenged for precious fuel and parts. They sometimes provide a hiding place for one of her favorite four-legged friends.

Approaching the intersection of E 64th and Park Ave, she slows to check for the telltale signs of Cleaners before entering the open area. She scans the street, hoping to see Cash. Named after one of her favorite country music artists, the mixed breed K9 she’s befriended stands out from the others with his one blue and one black eye. Cash seems to have chosen Nicole, even though she’s partial to cats. He often follows her for several blocks before disappearing. His presence, even from a far, usually brightens her mood. There’s no sign of him tonight, and she keeps to the route as planned.

As an animal lover, it’s difficult passing through this next area as she makes her way to 5th Avenue. Central Park and the zoo are just around the corner. The virus struck every living creature, including the caged animals housed there, and Nicole practically jogs, letting her long legs carry her past. The stench of decay is overwhelming even now, and she sticks to the sidewalk, weaving around piles of trash and a line of rental scooters still docked in their meters. It’s clear this was an affluent neighborhood, and sometimes she imagines what the people who lived here must have done for a living. Maybe they were bankers or lawyers or media moguls, or maybe they just won the lottery one day and moved to Manhattan.

If time allowed, she would stop and sketch the row of ornate stone buildings that line this street. Drawing is a hobby she’s picked up since being on her own. She’s no artist, but it’s a comforting diversion and helps keep her mind occupied instead of dwelling on the past. Since Dolls made it sound urgent that she get to the safe house, she resists the distraction and stays on task.

As Nicole gets closer to the next major intersection, she spots two figures standing near an empty street vendor’s cart. It’s not unusual to see other survivors out on the street. The route follows a main power grid, and the Division keeps the water and electricity running for the estimated thousands encouraged to remain in this area. They don’t appear to be Cleaners, but she can’t be too careful. Cautiousness means survival.

Nicole makes a guarded approach. She can hear the two females talking, but the pair seem more engrossed in each other than their surroundings. The taller one appears to be leaning on the shorter one for support. She shouldn’t get involved with random people, but if they need help, she can’t just walk past without checking.

Once Nicole is close enough to determine if they’re armed—cleaners normally have their weapons visible—she calls out, “Hey there.”

The pair startles and freezes. Not the reaction Nicole wanted. She steps closer and the shorter woman takes a defensive stance between her and the taller one. Nicole raises her hands in a show of surrender then points to her yellow armband.

“It’s okay. I’m with the Division. Do you need help?”

Nicole hasn’t seen them before. She would have recalled the shorter woman’s striking features and soft eyes, and the taller woman’s distinct mane of dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

The shorter woman looks back, sharing a brief glance with the taller one in an unspoken question before the taller one nods. “It’s okay, tell her Waves.”

The shorter woman turns soft eyes to Nicole, “My sister… we were trying to make it back before dark… and something… something jumped out and bit her.” The shorter woman’s words come in quick bursts, it’s clear she’s more worried about her sister’s wellbeing than the potential danger of the stranger standing before them.

“Okay, well… let’s get you off the street. Do you have a place nearby?” Nicole takes a step closer and she can hear Dolls words ringing in her head.

“Yes,” the shorter woman points to the opposite side of the street, “there at the Pierre.”

Nicole turns to the taller woman, “Can you walk?”

With faintly slurred speech, the taller woman tells her, “My leg, I can’t put weight on it.”

Nicole grabs the taller woman’s arm, placing it over her shoulder without even asking permission. The woman reeks of alcohol, and Nicole wonders if that is affecting her more than the bite. But the genuine worry on the shorter woman’s face convinces her to continue.

“We need to get you inside before…”

The taller woman gives her a knowing glance, “Yeah, just promise me you’ll look after my sister if I…”

The shorter woman grabs her sister’s other arm. “Wynonna, don’t even think like that. You’re going to be fine.”

Nicole glances between the two women and offers a weak smile. “Yes, listen to…”

“… Waverly, I’m Waverly,” the shorter woman tells her, and Nicole is glad she at least knows their names now.

“… to Waverly. We’ve got you. Let’s just get inside and then I can look at that bite.”

The three women make their way to the entrance of the Pierre Hotel. Black-and-white floor tiles mark the sidewalk, announcing to visitors they have arrived at the five-star establishment in the heart of Manhattan. This hotel was on Shae’s list of suggested places to stay on their trip to New York, but Nicole convinced her girlfriend to stay at a less expensive place so they could take in an extra Broadway show. Shae could never argue with Nicole’s practical logic.

They pause and Waverly lets go of her sister while she pushes debris from the entrance mumbling, “Let me get this. We try to make it look abandoned.”

Nicole finds Waverly’s voice oddly soothing considering the situation. There’s a gentleness about her that seems to draw Nicole in, and it catches her off guard. She gets the sense they’ve met before, but she’s certain they haven’t. She would have remembered that voice and those soft eyes and Waverly’s gentle beauty.

“Where are we headed?” Nicole glances over, Waverly is smiling at her.

“The fourth floor, we’re on the fourth floor.” Waverly drops her gaze away and Nicole can’t tell if it’s an apology or if Waverly is suddenly shy. Either way, Nicole finds it endearing and part of her wants to know more about their story. Maybe once they get Wynonna settled, she’ll have the chance to ask.

They move past the front desk as the room opens into a wide hall with decorative arches and ornate fixtures throughout. It's clear this was a well-cared for establishment, and even in its current state of disarray, Nicole finds it charming. She imagines the lobby filled with guests from all over the world, here on business or enjoying a vacation before the world was destroyed.

“We have to take the stairs, the elevators don’t work.” Waverly is apologetic, even though she would have no control over the building’s condition.

“That’s okay. I’m not a fan, to be honest. The stairs are fine,” Nicole tells her.

They stop, and Nicole makes direct eye contact with Wynonna, but she appears somehow more intoxicated and Nicole questions if the woman feels anything at this point. “Can you do this or should I carry you?” 

Wynonna can barely support her own weight as she leans into Nicole, “I can make it.”

The alcohol can’t be helping the situation, and Nicole wonders when the last time either of them has had a meal, not that it makes a difference now, “Are you sure? I’m an EMT. I’m trained for this.”

“I don’t need nobody carryin’ me,” Wynonna snaps.

Waverly glares at her sister with an intensity that could melt metal. Wynonna raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Nicole tries to reason with her. “Alright, but the longer this takes, the longer that bite has to fester.”

It’s the truth but Nicole also needs to speed this up, Dolls is expecting her at the safe house and she’d rather not hear a lecture when she turns up late.

“Wynonna let her. Please?” Waverly makes the appeal to her sister.

Wynonna frowns and Waverly presses balled up fists to her hips, giving her sister the glare again. Nicole guesses that Waverly knows how to get what she wants with that look. Truth be told, it sort of melts Nicole too, but it’s also sort of endearing.

She’s amused by the pair. They’re sweet, not like stories she’s heard from friends and their siblings, but then _they_ weren’t in the middle of an apocalypse. Fearing for your wellbeing daily would be enough to bring the worst enemies to a truce, but then she doubts these two were ever enemies.

After a moment of labored consideration, Wynonna’s legs wobble and she finally gives in.

“Fine, if it will make my baby sister happy, the smoking hot ginger here can carry me. But keep yer hands off my ass.”

Nicole has endured remarks about her appearance since high school, being the tallest girl in her class and having red hair made for lots of teasing. Even the guys at the fire station back home liked to give her a hard time, but it was all in fun, of course. She chalks Wynonna’s behavior up to the woman’s drunken state, dropping her backpack and medical supplies and easily slinging Wynonna, firefighter style, over her shoulder.

“No ass grabbing, got it.”

Wynonna hardly weighs anything, and Nicole starts the ascent. Her sturdy legs carry them both as Waverly grabs the bags and follows, but not before Wynonna can make a special request.

“Bring more whiskey, baby girl.”

Wynonna goes silent and Nicole assumes she’s passed out, which is probably a good thing since this will go a lot quicker if the patient is cooperative.

Waverly makes the brief detour, grabbing a few bottles of whiskey for her sister. The hotel's bar is right next to the lobby and stocked with enough booze to keep even the most passionate drinkers happy. Shae had an affinity for wine, and they often had a glass with a meal. But Nicole never cared much for the way alcohol dulled her senses.

It’s not long before they’re standing at the door of the fourth-floor suite. Waverly slides the keycard and the electronic lock clicks open. Unless one of them has the tech knowledge to hack the hotel's computer system, they were apparently guests at this hotel when the virus hit and Nicole’s interest in their story grows, but she still doesn’t ask.

Waverly enters first, directing Nicole to drop Wynonna on the nearest bed. The medium-sized suite is spacious but cluttered, with a modest living area and a bedroom on either side. Nicole picks the closest room, dropping limp Wynonna down on the bed.

She remembers looking at the hotel’s website with Shae, the all-white décor made her uneasy, that coupled with the extravagant price was enough to sway her and now that she sees it, she knows they made the right choice. But it’s the perfect place for survivors given the fact that the utilities are still working and the five-star kitchen would be an excellent source for canned goods and other nonperishable food, not to mention the ample supply of toiletries like soap and bathroom tissue on hand.

Waverly follows Nicole into the bedroom, dropping the bags and Nicole instructs, “Help me get these off so I can get a look at her leg.”

They each grab a foot, pulling Wynonna’s boots and then her pants off as a flask falls from her pocket. That explains the progression of her intoxication.

Wynonna grunts, waking up at that moment and nearly kicking Nicole in the chest. “Whoa there, hot stuff. At least buy me dinner first,” she mumbles, grabbing at both of them.

“Wynonna!” Waverly scolds, offering her sister a fresh bottle of whiskey. “Sorry, she’s probably just hangry.” 

Wynonna twists off the lid and takes a long draw on the bottle, then collapses back into a semi-sedated state as her body goes limp once again.

Nicole is unfazed and makes a cursory inspection of the wound while the questions swirl through her mind. If they were guests at this hotel, she wonders what brought them to the city. She wants to ask, but the first thing out of her mouth is, “Does she drink like this often?” Realizing how that might sound, she qualifies, “I’m not judging. You can’t fault a person for self-medicating under these conditions.”

Waverly looks despondent as she weighs an answer, “We ah, we’ve been through a lot. This, all of this, has been tough for both of us.”

Nicole promptly regrets asking and drops her head, taking a breath before she replies, “Yeah, I get it. We all deal with pain and loss in our own way.”

Nicole deals with it by diving into work. Staying in motion so the pain of her broken heart never catches up with her. Running from it is easier. Its self-destructive behavior, she knows, but dealing with grief and loss is more than she can handle. So Nicole survives the best she can, and that has to be enough.

Waverly takes a breath and noticeably relaxes as she watches Nicole tend to her sister. “So you’re an EMT. I guess we were lucky to run into you out there.”

“Hmm, yeah, so this looks like a rat bite. It’s not too bad. I’ll clean it up and give her a tetanus shot.”

Nicole reaches for her med kit and pulls on latex gloves. The virus was airborne when it got released, but all the blood-borne diseases are still alive and well, not to mention its standard procedure in helping to prevent further exposure.

Waverly sits on the bed and silently watches before she asks, “What if the rat was… infected?” She tentatively utters the last word, like if she whispers it won’t be true.

Nicole would rather not think about it. This situation could pose a significant risk to all of them.

“Honestly, we don’t even know if it passes between humans and animals. I’d be more concerned about rabies, but she should get tested just to be sure.” Waverly looks sad, and Nicole hates being the bearer of bad news. Her gut rumbles again, this time from a pang of sympathy, and she adds, “But hey, it’s probably fine. Your sister seems like a fighter,” hoping that will ease Waverly’s mind even a little.

Waverly looks up, still sad, and Nicole touches her arm. She’s not sure where the impulse to comfort her came from, but the connection feels familiar as they exchange a timid smile. It rattles Nicole, and she quickly drops her hand and clears her throat. She’s made a point not to feel for so long now—it’s easier to survive hell that way—that even the slightest tug of emotion has her head spinning.

Waverly nervously shifts, then meets Nicole’s gaze. “I don’t think Wynonna will go for that. She’s… well, she’s anti-establishment,” she sighs, looking back at her sister, passed out, oblivious to the world.

Nicole doesn’t press. The Division’s purpose is to protect survivors, not to police them. Instead, she focuses on cleaning the wound, then prepping the shot.

“Can you pull her shirt open? This needs to go in her shoulder.” Nicole waves the syringe and Waverly unbuttons her sister’s shirt, pulling her arm free. Thankfully, Wynonna is wearing a tank underneath. Nicole pushes the needle in and empties the syringe, then covers the mark with a band-aid. “She may feel some soreness at the injection site, but that’s normal.”

“We’ve heard the test isn’t always accurate… for the virus, I mean. Is that true?”

Nicole hears a twinge of doubt and wonders what it would take to convince Waverly to go against her sister’s wishes.

“It’s accurate enough. Look, the safe house is nearby. I could even carry her.”

“I don’t think—” Waverly appears on the verge of tears as she pulls a blanket over her sister.

Nicole’s gut sinks again, and the need to comfort her is practically overwhelming.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

_“Agent Haught, report in.”_

The sudden harsh interruption startles them both, and Nicole bristles. “Sorry, just let me answer this.” She steps away from the bed, pulling the device from her belt, “Haught here.”

_“Damn it. Where are you? It’s almost dark.”_

“I’m busy Dolls.” She rarely minds when he barks, knowing it comes from a place of concern, but it hits differently when other people overhear and her manner shifts to match his. “I stopped to help some survivors!”

Her emphatic tone silences him and after a moment, he takes a calmer approach. _“You alright? Do you need me to come out there?”_

“I’ve got it under control. I’ll be there in a few.” She shuts the radio off and tosses it near her bags, then glances back at Waverly with an apologetic nod. “Sorry about that, he… he means well.”

The intrusion shifts Waverly’s focus away from her sister and back to Nicole, and her eyes grow soft again. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Her voice pulls at Nicole and she feels that nagging urge to touch her again, but resists.

“I’m not in trouble. We’re supposed to help. It’s why we’re here.”

Nicole looks away, but Waverly keeps her eyes fixed.

“He worries about you.”

Waverly’s honey sweet voice and angelic beauty draws Nicole’s gaze back.

“He does.”

Nicole’s answer is soft, almost a whisper, and she gets lost in those soft eyes for just a split second longer.

This time it’s Waverly who looks away, the intensity of the moment affecting both of them.

“It’s nice to have someone who cares.”

The surrounding air is suddenly thick and Nicole waits for Waverly to look at her once again, then smiles.

“Yes, it is.”

This connection is inexplicable. It’s more than just Nicole’s need to provide help. There’s something else, some other emotion that’s being stirred, and it’s unsettling. She needs to get to the safe house, to bury these feelings and focus on her work just like she’s done for the last six months.

Nicole pulls the gloves off and kneels to pack up her supplies; all the while fully aware that Waverly is still watching her. 

“I ah… I need to get going.”

Waverly rises with her and steps closer, faintly brushing a hand over Nicole’s arm.

“Yes, thank you for doing this. I don’t know what I would do if I… if I lost her.”

“I’m happy to help.”

They’re standing close and Nicole’s skin comes alive from the warmth. It’s all she can do to fight back the urge to reach out to this woman. It’s unexpected and makes her feel off balance, like she’s suddenly standing in a tiny boat out on the ocean. She had long abandoned the idea of ever experiencing anything like this in the wake of their new way of life.

“I just realized we haven’t been properly introduced,” Waverly smiles.

Nicole pushes past the momentary emotional fog settling on her brain. “Yeah… I mean, yes. I should have introduced myself. I’m Nicole, Nicole Haught.”

Waverly extends a hand, so delicate and inviting. Nicole looks down, rubbing damp palms against her shirt to dry them, before taking it in her own. Waverly’s words are barely audible over the rush of blood pounding in Nicole’s ears.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Waverly Hardy. Well, Gibson… it’s ah… it’s a long story. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. Oh, fudge nuggets. I said that already, didn’t I?”

Nicole finds Waverly’s fluster charming and squeezes her hand before reluctantly letting go. She can feel a flush of heat creep up her cheeks and she turns away, attempting to hide her own inner state of panic.

_It was just a handshake. Why does it feel like something more?_

Nicole takes a minute to compose herself, and after a few deep breaths, she hurriedly instructs, “Keep an eye on the leg. I’ll leave extra bandages and some antibiotics. If you see a rash or she develops a fever, give her these.” Nicole holds out a bottle. Waverly takes it and their fingers brush. It’s innocent, but it sends a shiver up Nicole’s arm and she sucks in a quick breath. Her face feels like it’s on fire now. “I’ll try to come back and check on her tomorrow.”

“I… _we_ would appreciate that.” Waverly manages a half smile.

They linger and Nicole realizes that the part of her soul that’s been dormant for months is coming to life, all from a touch and a smile. It’s all very heady and Nicole takes a step back. This is too much to process.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Nicole grabs her bags and turns to leave.

“Nicole?” Waverly’s eyes are on her again. The sound of her soft voice penetrating what little armor Nicole had left. “I’m… I’m really glad we met.”

Nicole’s is already raw and exposed. She takes a deep breath and looks back at Waverly, “Me too.”

*****

“Agent Haught, take a break. You’ve been working for hours.” Dolls hands Nicole a warm bowl of something resembling oatmeal. She doesn’t question before taking a spoonful. Rations are scarce and everyone knows you accept food when offered, even if it looks like the paste you used to play with as a kid.

“Thanks.” It’s bland but edible, and she takes another mouthful before setting it aside.

Nicole spent the first hours at the safe house treating patients, but as hard as she tried, Waverly and Wynonna never left her mind. She can’t shake the way Waverly looked at her or the way her voice seemed to find its way into Nicole’s soul. A chill runs through her just thinking about it now.

And then there was the bite. She didn’t have the heart to tell Waverly that they wouldn’t have the medication needed to treat rabies. It would almost be better if the rat was infected; at least they know how to treat the symptoms of the virus, even if there is no cure. They both deserve to know, and she plans to tell them the next time she visits.

“You look like hell,” Dolls practically grunts.

Nicole is glad to see him, even if he is an ass sometimes. They’re close, like siblings now. In their early days with the HTD, when things were still chaotic, the Division appointed Dolls team leader. Still strangers then, Dolls realized Nicole’s value when she joined the first wave of search parties tasked with finding survivors. Her willingness to help others without regard for her own needs impressed him, and they formed a lasting bond. He’s different from the other agents. He cares, and he cares about Nicole. They are the closest thing to family now, and as much as either would hate to admit it, that matters.

“Yeah, well, field duty was rough and then I had to come out here and help your sorry ass,” she jabs.

Dolls chuckles and even though they haven’t seen each other in a month, their friendship is familiar and comforting and it makes the anguished solitary trek through the streets of New York almost worth it.

“Right, I owe you one.”

“It’s okay. Just bring me something to eat once in a while. I’m sure it’s about to get busy around here.”

Dolls nods and leans against the door.

Word will quickly spread to nearby survivors that a medic is on site. They’ve already experienced an increase in patients needing help, but that’s okay. That’s exactly what they are here for, to help.

Nicole is on the brink of exhaustion as she dumps her backpack out on the bed. It’s pretty much everything she owns—a clean change of clothes, some rations, a ragged sketchbook and a few scavenged pencils, a scant supply of ammo, her identification papers and her cell phone. She makes a halfhearted attempt to organize them before she slumps down on the tiny bed in the makeshift quarters and reaches for the bowl of oatmeal instead.

“That’s a deal. You know, you should take better care of yourself. We need you.” She detects the genuine concern in his tone.

“You mean _you_ need me,” Nicole huffs.

It’s more like the Division needs her since any healthcare professionals still alive are few and far between. 

Dolls scoffs, “Don’t start.”

Nicole chuckles, “You know it’s true.”

“Okay, okay, yes, it’s true,” Dolls concedes. “There, are you happy?”

Nicole hasn’t felt true happiness since the day the virus took Shae. The loss was beyond devastating. Nicole hasn’t dealt with the grief, and it doesn’t take much for the memories of that day to come flooding back. She remembers holding Shae as she took her last breath. She still sees her face sometimes when she closes her eyes. She remembers the sick feeling when she carried Shae’s body into a nearby building seeking shelter for the night. Grief stricken and alone in a strange city, she huddled nearby and waited for death to come for her too. When it didn’t, she ventured out and stumbled into Dolls by shear accident. Finding each other that day must have been fate.

“Shit, I haven’t been—”

Nicole looks away as her words trail off and she instinctively grabs her cell phone lying next to her on the bed. There is no cell service, so it’s useless as a phone, but she keeps it because it holds memories of her life before the world went dark. Some days, she wishes she could just erase it all and start over. But she won’t, that would mean she would have to move on, and she’s not ready to do that either.

Dolls glances at the device and his features soften, “Hey, come on. Don’t do this to yourself again.”

There’s a long silence before she drops the phone on the bed, “It would be so much easier if I wasn’t here.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“You know what I mean, Dolls. Why can’t we just leave this city?”

“Not so loud, someone might hear.”

“Right, we wouldn’t want to piss off the government.”

“That government supplies us with food, clothing, and a safe place to sleep.”

“X, I don’t expect you to understand, but I don’t want to stay here anymore. This city, these streets, it’s all just a constant reminder of why I’m alone.”

“I get that, but you’re not alone. You have me.”

His voice is gentle, and he even attempts a smile. But he doesn’t really understand Nicole’s pain. It’s not his fault. She doesn’t talk about it, especially not with him. She’s never mentioned that unless she’s distracted with work, the grief she holds inside threatens to consume her, and that it’s sometimes unbearable.

“You know I appreciate your friendship, but it’s not the same.”

Dolls chews on his words for a few seconds before he asks, “Where would you go?”

He’s never asked that in all the previous times they’ve discussed this topic. Either he’s coming around or just humoring her, but his motives aside, she uses the opportunity to have the conversation.

“I overheard two guys who just got back from field duty. They were talking about a place in Ohio, where survivors are rebuilding communities. They’re growing food, and taking care of each other, they’re getting back to normal.”

Dolls looks down and shifts his feet, “I’ve heard that too, but it’s just talk.”

“What if it isn’t, X? What if things are better? What if we don’t have to live like this?”

“So what are you saying? You want to go to Ohio?” He glares and Nicole doesn’t answer. She stays silent, thinking maybe he just needs to process and maybe he’ll come around. “How would you get there? And what if you find out it’s _not_ better, then what?”

Nicole reaches for her phone again and rubs her thumb over the darkened screen. The motion wakes it up and Shae’s smile glares at her. “I don’t know. I’d figure it out.”

Dolls looks back down at the floor and sucks in a deep breath before he replies, “It’s too risky, besides you have everything you need right here.”

It’s clear they will not come to an agreement about this tonight, and Nicole lets it drop. This conversation isn’t over, though. She intends to come up with a plan and broach the subject with him again. She’s determined to get out of this city, and soon.

Dolls pushes away from the door and after a few seconds of silence he shifts to supervisor mode, “Where were you earlier?”

Nicole hoped that subject wouldn’t come up. Aside from breaking several protocols, the experience left her with more questions than she can handle right now. But she has to tell him something.

“I stopped to help two women.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks. She continues, “It’s not what you think. They’re sisters and one of them… never mind. It’s not important.”

Sharing the details would cause him to send agents out after Wynonna and Waverly. Even though logic dictates she should have insisted they come to the safe house so she could administer proper care, she doesn’t want Waverly to think she betrayed them. Thankfully, he doesn’t press.

“You’ve got to stop being reckless. You can’t keep putting yourself at risk.”

“I took precautions.” She offers, but it’s a lie. She had close physical contact with both of them—carrying a drunken Wynonna and then touching Waverly several times. The warmth from another human, however brief, clouded her judgement, but she’s not sorry. They needed help and she would do it again if the situation warranted.

“Nicole—”

Here comes the speech where he chides her for doing what comes naturally, protecting the people she cares about. But when did she suddenly start caring about these two women? And why does she feel she needs to lie to her friend about them? She just met them a few hours ago. She debates telling him the truth, but in her gut she still thinks Waverly and Wynonna are better off as her little secret, for now.

“It’s fine. I’m fine, really,” cutting him off before he can continue. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get some sleep.”

Nicole stands, practically reaching eye level with his six-foot frame, and he concedes. “Okay, fine. You win _again_. We’ll talk about this later.”

Nicole nods then turns away, relieved he’s willing to drop it for now.

Dolls turns to leave but stops, “You sure you’re okay? You seem different.”

“I’m good.”

But that’s another lie. She _is_ different. The interaction earlier sparked something she hasn’t felt in months. It took helping two perfect strangers to bring her emotions back to the surface. Something is tearing at her gut and it’s not the usual grief and despair, it’s something different, it almost feels like hope.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” 

Nicole nods and then drops back on the bed once Dolls leaves. She looks down at her phone; Shae’s smile should cheer her up, even if it’s just for a minute. It doesn’t, and she drops the device and grabs her sketchbook. Maybe drawing will help clear her head. As she stares at a blank page, the first image that comes to mind is Waverly’s gentle face. It’s an unexpectedly pleasant image, and she grabs a pencil and goes to work before the inspiration disappears.


	2. Chapter 2

Waverly flips the page of the hotel desk calendar to June. It’s hard to believe they’ve been here for 152 days. What started as a simple trip, a gift from Wynonna to celebrate Waverly’s divorce from Champ Hardy, has turned into the nightmare of the century. They’ve been stuck in this city, in this hotel, ever since the attacks. The days of isolation and monotony are wearing on her sanity, and Wynonna’s shear drive to get them out of here, to get them home is the only thing that keeps her going.

Lately, her hope of getting home has been fading. Every attempt they’ve made to leave the city has failed. She’s convinced that they’re doomed to live out the rest of their days, however long that might be, in the solitude of this damn hotel with nothing to do but eat, sleep, and get on each other’s nerves. There is some solace in that fact that she’s not alone, and even though they’ve had their differences, she and Wynonna are closer than they’ve ever been.

At least the weather is finally warm as summer approaches. They’ve been spending more of their days outside, even eating lunch on the hotel’s rooftop terrace, away from the death and destruction still so prevalent on the streets below. It helps to ease the constantly gnawing boredom and serves as a bright spot in her day.

The morning sun is peaking over the surrounding buildings as Waverly enjoys the quiet. Wynonna is in the other room, sleeping off last night’s drinking binge. The same as she has done for the better part of two months now. Waverly uses the time to tidy up their living space. She’s amazed at the clutter, especially since it’s just the two of them. She’s learned things about Wynonna since they’ve been living together. She’s learned that Wynonna deals with the overwhelming grief of being separated from the rest of their family by drinking herself under the table, and that her older sister is a bit messy.

She’s busy rounding up stray articles of Wynonna’s clothing when there’s a soft knock at the door. The gentle voice on the other side announcing, “Waves, it’s me.”

Waverly unbolts the lock and cracks the door, peering through the open slit to observe her friend standing in the hall. “Morning Jeremy.” She steps aside to let him pass as she shuts the door and locks it again.

As far as they know, it’s just the three of them living in the hotel, but Wynonna insists they are diligent about safety, always reminding them to keep the doors locked and to watch their backs whenever they go out on the streets.

Waverly quickly pulls the bedroom door closed so they don’t disturb Wynonna. Jeremy’s eyes grow wide as he scans the room.

“Wow, there’s more stuff in here since yesterday. You sure your sister’s not a hoarder?”

She met Jeremy on the street in front of this very hotel on the day of the attack, and they became instant friends. Aside from Wynonna, he’s the only family she has, and she’s glad for the company.

Waverly sighs, “She went on another treasure hunt, at least that’s what she calls it. I call it scavenging, but you know she says it’s all part of the plan to get us out of here.”

Plan or not, their suite is being overrun with stranger’s belongings and Waverly doesn’t like it. She always kept an orderly home, even when she was married to Champ. It was one of the few things she had control over. Looking back, she realizes that she was overcompensating for an unhappy relationship, but damn if her house wasn’t always spotless. Now, according to her sister, the clutter is a necessary annoyance and most days Waverly doesn’t even bother to argue.

Jeremy slides a half-empty golf bag out of the way and sits on the edge of the couch.

“Right, the plan. Does she have enough stuff to trade yet?”

“Who knows, she’s barely sober lately and I’m afraid the longer we stay here, the worse she’ll get.” Waverly flops into the chair across from Jeremy as an overwhelming sadness washes over her. She’s kept her emotions in check, often functioning on auto-pilot, but talking about it now reminds her of home and all the things she misses. “Honestly, I’m not sure we’ll ever get out of here. Home is so far away and the chances of us getting there seem so impossible.”

“But you trust her, right?” Jeremy’s eyes mist up as he fixes his dark, gentle gaze on Waverly. There is a lot riding on Wynonna and this plan. They could all be going home soon.

“I trust Wynonna, but not the others. I mean, we don’t know them. Are we just supposed to believe that complete strangers are going to sneak us out of the city and help us get to Toronto?”

“Yeah, no, I get that. It’s hard to trust people, but what other choice do we have? The government won’t help us. I want out of here just as bad as you guys do.” Jeremy slumps back on the couch, looking defeated as he kicks at the golf bag, impeding his ability to stretch out his leg. “If strangers can make that happen, then I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Jeremy makes a good point. This city is not their home and Wynonna has a plan, even if Waverly feels less than confident that her sister can pull it off.

“I know, and Wynonna will be inconsolable if it falls through. She’s been working on this for weeks.”

“We have to at least try.” Jeremy tells her, pulling a laptop from his backpack and placing it on the table in front of him.

Waverly shrugs, “I guess.”

It helps to hear Jeremy’s thoughts about their situation, and maybe she just needs to have faith in her drunken older sister’s ability to make miracles happen.

“Hey, did I hear someone else in the hallway last night? Sounded like another woman’s voice?” He doesn’t look away from his computer, and Waverly watches as he deftly works the keyboard.

Jeremy lives across the hall and they often hang out together, talking for hours while Wynonna is out scavenging during the day or sleeping off the whiskey like now. They’ve become close and have a lot in common. They even went to the same elementary school back home until Jeremy’s family moved away.

Waverly spots the roll of gauze that Agent Haught left behind, and her mind snaps back to last night. She hasn’t forgotten about the tall friendly woman with very sweet brown eyes and auburn hair. Waverly felt unusually comfortable around Nicole and she hasn’t forgotten that either. Then she realizes she’s grinning when she looks over at an expectant Jeremy.

“Oh, yeah, it was a Division agent. She helped me get Wynonna up the stairs. We ah, we had an incident out on the street.”

“What kind of incident?” Jeremy sounds concerned.

Even though Wynonna is prone to relentlessly teasing him, they’re still friendly and Waverly can tell he’s worried.

“Something, well, a rat bit Wynonna.”

“What?!” Jeremy exclaims a bit too loudly and Waverly shushes him.

“Keep it down. I’d like to have a peaceful morning.”

“Oh, sorry. So how is she? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Agent Haught gave her a shot and left instructions in case the bite gets infected, but the swelling was gone before she passed out the second time.”

“That’s a relief. Sounds like you lucked out finding a friendly Division agent. I was beginning to think they didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, Wynonna even let Nicole carry her up the stairs.” Waverly’s insides flutter thinking about watching the tall, fit Agent carry her drunken limp sister up four flights of stairs without even breaking a sweat and catches a smile spreading across her face again.

“Nicole? You’re on a first name basis with her?” Jeremy’s eyebrows raise and he looks even more worried. “Did this agent say Wynonna needs to get tested for… you know?”

Waverly looks down at her hands, “She mentioned something about going to a safe house, but I told her that Wynonna would never agree to it.”

“What if agents come knocking on your door?”

“We’ll deal with it, but I got the impression Nicole is different. She’s not like the others we’ve seen.”

“Different how?”

Waverly looks up at Jeremy, she’s safe with him and she’s certain she could tell him anything without being judged. She hasn’t fully processed what she’s about to say, but she shares it anyway.

“I’m not sure, but I think maybe she _likes_ me.” Waverly can feel her palms starting to sweat; just talking about this has her flustered again.

“What do you mean?” Waverly shrugs and looks back at her hands. “Oh, you mean she _like_ likes you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? She felt familiar. Like we knew each other somehow, and her eyes…” _I got lost in those warm brown eyes more than once_.

“Wait, do you like her too?” Waverly fidgets with the ring on her right hand. Jeremy’s face lights up and his grin grows wide. “Waves, I didn’t know you were into girls.” His tone is practically celebratory.

Waverly holds her breath. She felt something, but she hasn’t found the right words to describe it to herself, let alone anyone else. That’s the only thing she knows for sure, that and she’s certain she’s never felt it before.

“I’m not saying that I’m _into_ girls,” making air quotes with her fingers, she continues, “for the first time in months I felt something besides despair and hopelessness. I felt seen when she looked at me. It seemed like she really cared about me _and_ Wynonna.” _And now I can’t stop thinking about her._

“That’s so awesome. Wait, does Wynonna know?”

“Do I know what?” Wynonna is standing in the doorway, still in her underwear, scratching her head and clearly half asleep.

Waverly is certain she is not ready to have this conversation with either of them, and she jumps up and grabs a white hotel robe, tossing it to her sister. “Wynonna, cover up, we have company.”

The robe hits Wynonna in the face and drops to the floor. She bends down to pick it up, protesting, “Jeremy is not company, besides he’s seen this before,” as she pulls the robe on and slumps in a nearby chair.

“That doesn’t mean he wants to see it again.” Waverly practically chuckles. There’s no point in arguing with her sister when she’s in this mood.

Wynonna doesn’t close the robe, so Jeremy averts his eyes, turning his attention to his laptop while trying not to blush. “Okay. So I think I figured out a way for us to text each other on our cell phones.”

Jeremy continues to stare at the computer screen. Waverly sympathizes with him. Even though Wynonna knows he’s gay, she’s still unrelenting in her pursuit to embarrass him.

“Wait, why _am_ I half naked?” Wynonna slings her leg over the arm of the overstuffed chair and runs her hand down her bare torso. Jeremy chokes back a gasp. “Oh my god Waves, please tell me I didn’t sleep with that hot medical chick, because if I _did_ …”

“What? No! Of course you didn’t sleep with her, Wynonna. Don’t you remember, she carried you up the stairs?” Waverly is shocked at her sister, but then she really shouldn’t be. Since they’ve been trapped here, Wynonna’s moods have been all over the place.

Wynonna’s eyebrows shoot up as the events of the previous night come flooding back. “Oh yeah, she was _strong_ ,” practically purring and waving her hand as she whistles. “But why are my clothes off? Was she pervin’ on me? Waves did you let a total stranger perv on me?”

“No, silly. We took your pants off so Nicole; I mean, Agent Haught, could treat your leg. Then she gave you a shot in the arm.”

“Well, that makes perfect sense.” Wynonna finally pulls the robe closed. Jeremy breathes a sigh and she chuckles. “Okay, Nerdtastic, continue. We can use our cell phones to text?”

“Wynonna, be nice,” Waverly scolds, but it doesn’t faze her.

“What? He’s a nerd, and he’s fantastic. I meant it as a compliment.”

Waverly looks over at Jeremy and he nervously smiles, “Its fine,” he continues, “I’ve hacked the government’s encrypted network. There _is_ a firewall, but it’s not monitored. Pretty much anyone with basic skills can get through it, and I discovered that they maintain the data stream which allows text messages to go through. We won’t have internet and we can’t make calls, but this will give us a way to communicate if we get separated.” He rapidly taps on the keyboard as he speaks, “Give me your phone, Waves.”

Waverly jumps up, “Hang on, it’s charging in the other room. Be nice,” she tells her sister as she passes by.

Wynonna scoffs, “What? I’m always good.” Waverly glares. “Yeah, you’re right even I don’t believe that.”

Jeremy avoids eye contact, still staring at the computer, and Wynonna grins.

“So Jeremy, did you get a look at that smokeshow agent? She was _fine_. I hope we run into her again, if ya know what I mean.” She winks and stands up to move around the room.

“No…” Jeremy stutters, “No, I didn’t. But I don’t think she was…”

“I need to find my leather jacket. Bobo gave me an address he wants me to check out on my rounds today. Hey Waves, have you seen my leather jacket?” Wynonna shouts over her shoulder, paying no attention to Jeremy. “I musta left it downstairs,” she mumbles, then shouts again, “Waves, I’m heading down to eat. You and the nerd coming?”

She’s gone in a flash and Jeremy just shakes his head as Waverly comes out of the bedroom and hands him the phone.

“Okay, all I have to do is sync our numbers to the network and…” He taps out a message and seconds later his own phone dings. “There, we’re in sync. Now I just need Wynonna’s.”

Waverly searches around the room and finds Wynonna’s phone sitting on a pile of expensive watches and hands it to Jeremy. “Where did she go?”

Jeremy shrugs, “She said something about a leather jacket and going to eat.” He wakes the phone and a black-and-white picture of Cate Blanchett wearing a suit stares back at him. He fumbles and accidentally swipes his thumb over the screen. The next picture is of two naked women in a compromising position and he quickly drops the phone, “Ewww gross! Porn alert.”

Waverly grabs the phone and closes the app before handing it back to him. “Sorry about that,” she tells him, even though she doesn’t know why she’s apologizing for her sister’s indiscretions.

“It’s not your fault, but ew. Why does she have that stuff, anyway? Didn’t you say she has a girlfriend or wife or something back home?”

Waverly flops down next to him and peers over his shoulder, “She does, but it’s complicated. She and Mercedes are separated, but she’s watching their daughter Alice, while we’re here in New York.”

Jeremy stops typing and looks solemnly at her, “Is that why she’s so dead set on getting back to Toronto.”

Waverly leans back, flipping her own phone over in her fingers, “Our entire family is there. Wynonna worries about them constantly, if any of them are even still alive.”

Jeremy gently touches her leg, “I’m sorry Waves.”

They sit quietly while Jeremy finishes his task. Waverly has watched her older sister struggle with the possibility that they may be the last two remaining survivors of their family. Wynonna hasn’t been able to come to terms with the fact that her child might be gone, focusing most of her attention on getting them out of this city and barely coping, most nights, heavily drinking until she passes out.

Waverly breaks the silence, “Did she seem off to you?”

Jeremy chuckles, “You mean more than usual? Maybe that bite affected her more than she’s letting on?”

“Yeah, maybe. We should probably get down there before she sets the place on fire again.”

***

The day has gone exactly the way Nicole expected it would. She’s lost track of the variety of ailments and how many patients she treated. Her focus now is on an expectant mother in full-blown labor. The thought of bringing a new life in to these horrid conditions is unthinkable. Obviously the woman was already pregnant before the virus hit and the fact that she has survived the destruction is pretty remarkable.

Nicole has only assisted with one other birth in her career as an EMT. The woman had the kid right there in their rig. Thankfully, the doctor was on the radio talking them through the whole thing. That won’t be the case this time, and she’s just a little nervous. She’s usually steady under pressure. But without the proper equipment, and if there are complications, this could get touchy.

As Nicole pushes the door to the examination room open, she can hear the woman crying out in pain. Even though Mt Sinai West is only a block away, the Division hasn’t been able to power the grid that the hospital sits on, so they’ve established the safe house in a nearby Doctor’s office on the corner of West 58th and Broadway. It’s crude, but it will have to do. Nicole can tell by the way the woman is breathing; this baby won’t wait much longer.

“Hi, I’m Nicole, and you are…” She glances down at the makeshift questionnaire on the clipboard in her hands, “…Chrissy, right?”

The young woman nods as her breathing slows and she’s able to speak. “Yeah, Chrissy Nedley.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Nicole puts the clipboard down and extends a hand to the young woman. “I need to let you know that I’m not a licensed doctor, but I am a certified EMT and I have some experience with childbirth.”

“That’s okay, I’m just glad I don’t have to do this alone. I’m not sure I could, ya know?”

Nicole nods, daily survival is tough enough and she can’t imagine doing something like this alone, “I’m going to do my best to get you and your baby through this, I promise.” Chrissy nods and leans against the exam table. “Here, let’s make you more comfortable.” Nicole helps the young woman up onto the table. This repurposed office is not ideal for the situation, but at least it provides them some privacy.

Nicole retrieves the clipboard and continues, “Okay, let’s see. It looks like you’re in generally good health. Your due date was yesterday, so at least we know the baby is full term. Have you had any issues?”

“You mean other than these intensely painful contractions every few minutes?” Chrissy laughs nervously and Nicole senses the young woman’s apprehension.

“About the pain, we don’t have the proper meds here, so I’m afraid you’ll have to do this naturally.” Nicole is almost apologetic. She’s never given birth and can only imagine how painful it will be for this first time mother.

“That’s alright. Just make sure my baby is okay if something happens to me.” Chrissy’s eyes fill with tears.

Under different conditions, the tears might be attributed to the hormones racing through her body, but Nicole understands. It’s the second time in a day that someone has said those words to her. Now more than ever, humans are being forced to face their own mortality, and it only serves to remind Nicole of her own loss.

Nicole smiles and moves closer, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “You have my word. You’re both going to be fine.” Chrissy gives a tentative nod.

“Is it okay if I take your vitals?” Nicole asks as she wraps the blood pressure cuff around Chrissy’s arm and pumps it full of air, placing her stethoscope on the pulse point on Chrissy’s arm while she gets a reading, then lets the air out of the cuff and steps back.

“120 over 80, that’s perfect. You seem in good health despite…” She looks up and Chrissy is watching her intently. “I mean, I know this is tough. Do you have someone to help with the baby, or at least a safe place to stay?”

Chrissy lowers her head, “No. The father… It’s a long story but no, I don’t have anyone. I’ve been staying nearby, but I’m not sure how safe it’ll be once the baby comes.”

Nicole turns away to hide the sadness that washes over her and her heart breaks for both of them. “We can set you up with a room here if you’d like. It’s not particularly comfortable, but it would be safe until you and the baby are strong enough to venture out on your own again.”

Chrissy sucks in a sharp breath as another contraction hits, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Okay, I’ll let my friend know.” She turns back to face Chrissy. “Judging by the time between contractions, I’d say you’re getting close. I’ll need to see how far you’re dilated.” Nicole pulls a gown from one of the drawers and hands it to Chrissy. “I’ll step out. Go ahead and get changed and I’ll be back in a few.”

Chrissy nods through another round of breathing and Nicole slips out the door.

She finds Dolls in the hall, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “How’s it going in there?” he asks.

“Good so far. She’s young and strong. It’s not going to be pretty without pain meds, though. I really feel for her.”

Dolls winces sympathetically, “What can I do?”

“See if you can find me a couple of buckets. Do we have any clean sheets or towels? We’ll need something to wrap the baby in once it’s out.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll see what I can find. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I think I have most of what I need in the room already.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

As she waits for Dolls, Nicole takes a few deep breaths and leans against the wall. She can’t remember the last time she sat down or had anything to eat, but there’s no time to rest. A baby is on the way, and she is the only one remotely qualified to help with the delivery. In reality, women all over the world have been giving birth for centuries by themselves, but humanity has never been more precious than it is right now. Even if she’s not an actual doctor, this is her patient, and she fully intends to see this through.

She and Shae talked about having kids once or twice, but they couldn’t agree on who would carry the baby or how they would conceive. When Nicole thinks about it now, she realizes they weren’t ready for something that big—that important. She had just started her first job as an EMT and Shae was still waist deep in med school and they had barely moved in together. At that point, their lives would not have been conducive to having children, and deep down she thinks they both knew it.

This is not the time to let memories of Shae intrude on her ability to do her job and she shakes her head to clear it as she spots Dolls coming towards her, his arms full with a basket and towels. A bucket dangles from his belt loop, secured by the carabiner he keeps his radio on, and she chuckles at the site.

“Will this work?” He’s slightly out of breath and she smiles to herself. For all of his bravado and gruff exterior, his concern for her patient proves he’s got a squishy soft heart, and that’s probably why they get along so well.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” She takes the basket and bucket, setting them down next to her on the floor.

“Oh, and here, I found these,” he pulls two nutrition bars from his pocket. “You look pretty beat, thought you could use a boost.”

She takes them, pocketing one and tearing the wrapper from the other as she sinks her teeth into the chocolate and peanut butter flavored protein mixture, “Oh man, you’re a lifesaver. I was definitely running on empty. Thanks, Dolls.”

“Sure thing. Anything else I can do?”

“Get a room ready for her and the baby. They’ll need a safe place and she’s agreed to stay here until they’re strong enough to move on.”

Dolls drops his head and nods, “Yeah, no problem. We have a few spaces open upstairs.”

“Thanks. She’s alone, and this is pretty scary for her.”

He looks up with faint tears in his eyes, and Nicole gets it. A new birth should be a joyous occasion, but with the state the world is in, it’s also a sad one. “Anything else?” he asks.

Nicole finishes chewing the last bite of her snack and pulls at the back of her neck, trying to relieve the tension knot that’s been forming. She’s never been willing to admit she needed anyone, even Shae, but this is different. Other people’s lives could be at stake.

“I could use your help in there. Technically, I know what to do, but it would be easier for the mom if she had some moral support.”

He nervously fidgets, “I don’t think…”

“What’s the matter, big tough guy like you afraid of a little screaming?” she teases.

He shakes his head, “It’s not that. Are you sure she’d want me in there? Isn’t this a personal situation for her?” His eyebrows shoot up as he gestures to his crotch area.

Nicole bends to retrieve the basket and bucket. “Wait here. I’ll ask.”

She leaves him standing alone in the hallway with practically the same deer in the headlights expression, and when she emerges from the examination room a few seconds later, his mouth drops open.

“She said it would be very nice to have the support so get in here.” Nicole barks as she holds back the urge to smirk at him.

Dolls drops his head and slumps his shoulders as he follows Nicole in the room.

“Chrissy Nedley, this is Xavier Dolls. He’s a good friend of mine and he promises not to pass out when things get… well, you know.”

Dolls waves nervously, “Nice to meet you.”

Chrissy gives a half smile through rapid breathing as another wave of contractions hits.

Nicole pulls on sterile gloves and finishes prepping. As she examines Chrissy, she tells Dolls, “Why don’t you stand over by her head. Maybe if she could squeeze your hand or something, it might help with the pain.” Nicole winks and Chrissy nods. They both know it won’t but Nicole wants him out of her way and that should make him feel useful.

He does as he’s told, and Chrissy accepts the help as another contraction rolls through.

Nicole gets into position, “Looks like you’re fully dilated. I think it’s time.”

***

Nicole knocks softly on the door and Chrissy tells her to come in. After several hours of pushing and breathing, little Stuart Randall Nedley was finally born. Healthy and solid, the newborn is quietly sleeping in the clothes basket turned bassinet while his mother regains her energy, eating a bowl of what Nicole can only assume is oatmeal and the handy work of one Xavier Dolls.

Nicole peers into the basket to check on her newest patient, “He seems happy.”

Chrissy quietly laughs, “He should be. I just finished feeding him. He’s got quite an appetite.”

“I’m glad to hear that. How are you feeling?” Chrissy nods and Nicole continues, “I have to tell you, it’s impressive, what you just did.”

“Well, I had help, and thank you for that. You and Xavier have been just…” She starts to cry softly, then laughs at herself, “These hormones. The books said it could be rough to get used to the changes at first.”

“It’s okay, you’re among friends now.” Nicole assures her.

This is the first time Nicole has said that to anyone since the attacks, besides Dolls. Her armor slipped again, and she’s reminded of what it felt like to be vulnerable with Waverly, even for just a second. She fears letting emotions in now will overwhelm her already weakened state, and she stops them before they can gain traction.

“Thank you again, for everything.”

Chrissy reaches out and Nicole takes her hand, the warmth of a human touch bringing her sense alive again. This sensation is distinctly different from the ones she had when she touched Waverly, and even though she doesn’t want to admit it, those were definitely feelings of attraction.

“Get some rest. Will you be alright here alone if I go get some sleep?”

Chrissy smiles and pulls her hand back, “Oh, we’re not alone. Xavier just went on a supply run to the pharmacy around the corner. He said he would be right back.”

Nicole quirks an eyebrow, “Really, okay, well then I’ll check on you both in a little while. Do you need anything else from me before I go?”

Chrissy nods and Nicole quietly slips out of the room so as not to disturb the sleeping infant. She makes her way down the flight of stairs on the way back to her own room. She’s been in motion for at least 48 hours, taking some quick naps in-between checking on Chrissy and a few other patients. She’s decided she deserves some rest and plans to crash as soon as she reaches her bed.

She spots Dolls bounding up the stairs, a load of plastic bags in each hand. He’s out of breath, as if he’s been running and practically bumps into her.

“Hey, Dolls, what the…? What’s all this?”

Dolls holds the loot up and flashes a bright toothy grin, “Diapers and bottles and a breast pump and… well… baby stuff. I thought she could use the help.”

Nicole chuckles, “You’re soft on that baby, aren’t you?” He drops his eyes, and she realizes it’s not the baby he’s soft on. “Wait. You like her? Dolls…”

“Look, I know. She’s just had a baby, but she’s all alone. I’m not trying to get involved. I… It’s just nice to have a distraction from the crap. You know what I mean.”

She knows exactly what he means. She found her distraction in the soft hazel eyes of a complete stranger she met two days ago and hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

“Just be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt if things don’t work out the way you think you want them to. Okay?”

Dolls nods slowly, showing he hears what Nicole is saying, “You’re a good friend, Haught. Now go get some sleep. I got this.” He bounds past her, up the stairs and out of sight.

Nicole makes it to her room and slumps on the bed. Her first instinct is to reach for her phone and scroll through the pictures of her and Shae, but she finds her sketch book instead and opens it to the last thing—the last face—she drew. Somehow, some way, this stranger has gotten past Nicole’s fortress and she does not know what to do with these feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> An enormous thanks goes to my friend and beta @BinxEarper for your wisdom, insight and tireless sessions of talking me off of my figurative ledge, and to my Ducking Earper Fam for your unwavering support. You all always make me feel like I have my own cheering squad. Love you guys.


End file.
